@honimoore
WHEN: (Late) Reception
They’re set to leave, but Fava asked for more time. Just ten more minutes -- fifteen tops. I need to talk to Perri before we go.
Her feet are aching when she interrupts a group of Capitolites in order to selfishly steal the blonde away from the conversation. She isn’t rejected, of course, because no one says no to the bride on her wedding day. (As long as her requests are within what’s allowed or expected of her, that is.)
Fava selects a vacant table off in a back corner of the reception hall. She doesn’t know who sat there before them -- hell, she doesn’t know half of the guests in attendance -- but whoever was here left behind a perfectly fine glass of water. Good. She needs more of that and less champagne. She helps herself, aware now of just how hot she is. Her sip is more of a desperate gulp. She wipes her lips with the back of her wrist shortly after to remove any lingering moisture. Nelly would scold her about her manners if this were any other day.
“I’m glad you decided to come. I know it was a hard decision for you.” Like Fava with Wren, she knows that Perri did it for Sage.